Such A Simple Thing
by theclarinetchica
Summary: Five times John's dates go badly, one time it works out. Johnlock.


Thank you so much to MrsNoggin for being an awesome beta. Thanks also go to dazeichane- she gave me some words when I asked for a prompt that helped me finish out this story.

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5.

John sat across the table from the brunette, bored as hell. Her name started with an L, he thought- Liz or Lisa, something like that. She was pretty in an unconventional way, long brown hair, big eyes behind thick glasses, and a mouth that seemed quick to smile. John, however, only wished she was smiling at him. Instead, she had spent the entire date staring at her phone, fingers flying quickly over the screen, typing out messages to God knows who. John felt like he was on a date with Anthea, feeling completely ignored by the woman sitting across the small table from him.

John wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee, about ready to make excuses and leave, when she looked up.

"So, what do you do again?" she asked, flashing a smile, this time for John rather than the technology in her lap.

He internally rolled his eyes, this was the second question she had asked over the last thirty minutes, and it was one that was answered on his dating profile. He plastered a smile on his face and answered, "I'm a doctor."

"Oh." The woman fell silent again, typing away at her phone. John had given up on asking anything, every question was answered with one or two words. This was the first date he had gone on after reactivating his online dating profile, and it was going badly. It was incredibly frustrating.

"Well," he said after she had been silent for a few minutes, "I should really get going."

"Where do you have to go?"

"My flat mate texted me," John lied smoothly, "We've got a case." He drank the last bit of his coffee and stood up. "It was nice to meet you." All he got in return was a nod.

John left, feeling discouraged. He had reopened his profile, hoping to find someone online. He had not been having terrific luck on his own, and after six months of no dates, he had resorted to the Internet. He knew that he would have to go through his share of bad dates, but this first one had been one of the worst dates of his life.

XxX

The next day, he was walking to Tesco's when he felt his phone buzz. He didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"John? It's Lizzy." He searched his mind briefly, then remembered about the awful date the day before- that must have been her name. He hadn't really expected to hear from her again.

"Yes, hi. How are you?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Good, good," he answered, wondering why she was calling. The date had gone terribly, he had thought.

"So what are you doing?"

"I'm just heading to the store. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm just talking to this really cute guy," she flirted.

John stopped in his tracks. Was she serious? He was completely flummoxed, had he given off cues during the date to make her think it went well? John didn't think he had, but he had made mistakes before.

"Oh, um, yes," he stammered, which was very unlike him, "Uh, you're actually breaking up," he couldn't believe he was actually using that line. "I'll call you back when I get better service."

He wasn't proud of the conversation, but he couldn't believe that Lizzy had called him. She had spent the entire date on her phone, and she calls him the next day? Apparently some people saw things very differently than he did. He hoped his next date would work out better.

XxX

He found Sherlock pacing the living room when he returned home, looking like an animal in a cage. His hair was wild and his eyes fevered.

"John," he rounded on him, "I need something."

"You are not getting any drugs."

Sherlock waved his hand, "No, not drugs. I am so bored. Please, something to stimulate my mind."

"Fine. Tell me about my day."

Sherlock flopped down on the couch, scrutinizing John from his back. "You woke up late this morning, skipped a shower and was out the door in fifteen minutes. Work at the surgery was incredibly boring, and you took an early lunch because you skipped breakfast. You took the tube home, rather than walk, because you thought it might rain- it didn't. You stopped by Tesco's to pick up stuff for dinner, apparently we're having stir fry tonight, and I'm not hungry, so you only need to make enough for you."

"Amazing. You missed something. And you _will_ be eating tonight, even if I have to tie you down and force feed you."

"Missed," Sherlock's gaze was sharp as he thought, "Oh. You got a phone call."

"How on earth did you figure that out?"

"Well, your phone is in your back pocket rather than the front. This means you haven't sat down since you used it last. You probably sat while on the tube, which means you received a phone call while you were getting the shopping_._ Now, it was something unusual enough for you to tell me that I missed something. If it had been someone you talk to often, you wouldn't have even thought of it as something I did not deduce. Let's see, who was it? Oh! Stupid, it was the girl you had that atrocious date with yesterday."

"How the hell did you even deduce that?"

"Lucky guess."

"Bullshit," John challenged, but Sherlock had already turned his back to John, seeming to sink into a sulk. John sighed, "I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

4.

_Hi cutie,_

_It looks like we have a lot in common. I think we could hit it off. Take a look at my profile and see if you're interested. I'd love to grab a cup of coffee sometime. _

_~Abbie_

**_Hi Abbie,_**

**_It does seem like we have a lot in common. Let's meet for a cup. When is best for you?_**

**_~John_**

_Hi John,_

_Does tomorrow afternoon work? Maybe around 3?_

_~Abbie_

**_Hi Abbie,_**

**3 sounds perfect. Do you know FreeState Coffee on Southhampton Row in Holborn? **

**_~John_**

_John,_

_Sounds great. I'll see you then._

_~Abbie_

John stood inside the door of the coffee shop, searching the faces that walked in. Looking down at his watch, he noted that Abbie was already ten minutes late. Another ten and he was just going to head home. He really didn't know that much about her, he had accepted her invitation without the usual conversation that preceded a meeting.

"John?" the petite blonde in front of him asked.

"Hi, Abbie?"

"It's nice to meet you."

"You too. Shall we?" John led the way to the coffee bar, ordering just a black coffee for himself while Abbie ordered a triple mocha with extra whipped cream and sprinkles.

They sat at a small table, each with their hands wrapped around a steaming mug. The talk was awkward at first, but they soon fell into a conversation about the latest mystery by Richard Castle. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only topic Abbie wanted to talk about. John had tried steering the conversation to other things, but she always seemed to bring it back to the books. John soon tired of it, but he was too damn polite to really say anything. It got to be so bad that he faked a text from Sherlock in order to escape.

XxX

The next day, he and Sherlock caught a case that took them tearing across London for four days, leaving John absolutely exhausted. Logging onto his computer for the first time in days, he sifted through his inbox. Lots of spam, a couple comments on his latest blog post, and a notification of a message on the dating website. He clicked through and read the thread of conversation.

**_Monday 5:37 pm_**

_John,_

_I had a lot of fun yesterday. I thought we really hit it off and I'd love to see you again._

_~Abbie_

**_Tuesday 6:58 pm_**

_Hi, did you get my message? I'd really like to hear back from you._

**_Thursday 11:21_**

_I would have really appreciated a note to let me know that you weren't interested. I'm not the kind of girl who dates more than one guy at a time, and my love life is already slow enough. I didn't need to be waiting around for you when you aren't even going to bother. Thanks a lot for hindering my dating. _

John sat back in his chair. He had thought he could read women fairly well. Maybe he was losing his touch? This was twice that he had thought the dates went badly, but he had been contacted by the women he had gone out with, both trying to set up a second date. He did feel bad about Abbie, but it wasn't like she had given him a lot of time to respond. He sat back up, ready to compose a response, only to find that she had blocked him. He took a moment to let himself feel guilty,but was able to brush it away. He had been busy solving a crime with Sherlock, and John knew that he would always come first.

3.

"No, really John, she's super nice," Molly said, trying to convince him to go on a blind date with one of her friends. "She's geeky, and very pretty. What could it hurt?"

That made John pause. It really couldn't hurt, and it was not like he was having a lot of luck by himself. "Sure."

"But I think she'd- wait, did you just say yes?"

John laughed at her double take. "Yeah, Molly, why not?"

"Oh, yay! Give me your phone and I'll put her number in. Her name is Alanna, give her a call soon."

John handed his phone over and promised to call her the next day.

XxX

John had been inspired when he had thought of this first date idea. He walked into the London Trocadero arcade, finding a tall woman waiting inside the entrance. He was surprised at her height, for some reason he thought she would look more like Molly."John?" she asked, flashing a bright smile.

"Hi there. Alanna?"

"Nice to meet you." John changed his money into tokens, smiling at the memory of doing the same thing in his childhood. "Well, what shall we do first?"

"How are you at pinball?"

"Is that a challenge?"

John smirked, "You're on." They wandered over to the pinball area, looking at the different arcade games as they walked. There were a variety of games, from classic arcade to pool to first person shooters.

"Since you're about to be schooled, I'll let you choose," Alanna said cheekily.

He looked over the options, eyes settling on the classic King Pin game he remembered from when he was 10 and spent a considerable amount of time at the arcade. He knew it was probably unfair to pick a game he had played in his youth, but he remembered that it was based on general skill alone, rather than all the fancy power-ups the newer machines had.

"Ladies first," he gestured to the machine, placing two tokens in the slot.

Alanna leaned over, hands on the buttons on the side of the body of the game. John marveled at how good she was, watching as Alanna racked up an impressive score.

"Your turn," she smirked.

John stepped up, assuming the same half bent position that allowed for the best view of the game. The lights and sound made him smile as he pulled back the plunger, focusing on the small metal ball. Despite his concentration, his score was not as high as Alanna's.

"Rematch?" she offered.

"How about a different game. Your pick this time."

They played through the arcade, taking turns picking games, challenging each other to pinball and the classic arcade games- neither had an interest in the shooters. They were evenly matched, each having different strengths. John's lay in the older games, while Alanna was better at the classically nerdy games- ones based on Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings and Star Trek.

Alanna had showed the nerdy side that Molly had told him of, showing him the tattoo of the TARDIS on her calf and the in depth knowledge of Lord of the Rings. John wasn't scared off by her enthusiasm of those subjects; he shared her love of Doctor Who, even if he wasn't as intense as she was.

John realized that he wasn't attracted to her. Yes, he had fun with Alanna, but there just wasn't that spark that signaled a budding romance.

Walking out of the arcade, Alanna stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, "John, look…um, this is hard to say, but I think it might be better if we decide to just remain friends."

He heaved an internal sigh of relief, "I'll be honest, that's what I was thinking as well."

"Well, that's a comfort. It could have been incredibly awkward," she laughed, leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't be a stranger."

"We'll get a beer sometime," he promised.

"Sounds fantastic," she smiled. They said their goodbyes and John left, walking down the street. _At least this one wasn't a complete loss, _he thought, only slightly disheartened.

XxX

"Well, go ahead, I know you want to," John said as he sat on the couch next to Sherlock. He put his book down before peering at John.

"You had a date today."

"Yes, I told you. Weren't you listening?"

"Probably not. I don't see why you even bother, you're not going to find anyone interesting out there." Sherlock had been becoming surlier lately, ignoring John more often and tossing out acerbic remarks with increasing frequency.

"Fine, if you don't want to deduce-"

"I didn't say that. Let's see, you went to the arcade, specifically the Trocadero. There are three ticket stubs in your pocket, and you reek of cheap food. Interesting choice for a first date. She must not have been your usual type, then, so you didn't meet her through that insipid dating website. Through a friend? Yes, you were set up by someone- Molly?"

"How did you get that?"

"Men don't usually set people up on blind dates, John, the women you know are fairly limited, and I hardly think Donovan or Sarah would set you up with anyone. Therefore, Molly. Why do you even bother?"

"Because I like dating." John looked over at Sherlock, who had buried himself back in his book. He was beautiful, John realized suddenly, and was surprised that he wasn't as upset by that thought as he should be. It was definitely food for thought.

2.

John smiled at the woman sitting at her desk. He was waiting for Sherlock to finish talking to Lestrade, Sherlock having made it very clear that he was not needed right now. He had been testier lately, and John had no idea what was bothering his friend. For now, he was content flirting with the beauty that had just joined the force.

Sherlock soon swept out of Lestrade's office, ready to continue on the case.

"Hey, would you like to grab a drink sometime?" John asked, figuring that it couldn't hurt to enquire.

She looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "Why not? Oh, what was your name again?"

"John, and yours?"

"Diane," she scribbled something on a scrap of paper, "Here's my number, give me a call sometime. It looks like your friend is getting impatient."

John turned around, finding Sherlock standing too close, frustration apparent on his face.

"Let's _go_, John," turning around sharply and walking away.

"I'll talk to you soon, Diane."

XxX

John walked into the posh bar, scanning for Diane. He found her sitting at a table, sipping on a martini. He stopped by the bar, ordered a beer and made his way over.

"Hi John," she smiled, "How are you doing today?"

"Good, good. Yourself?"  
"I'm doing well."

They made small talk and drank slowly, John finding the entire experience to be boring. He was wondering if it was the years spent with Sherlock that had made what he once found exciting to be dull.

"You see, George used to always take me dancing."

"I'm sorry, who's George?"

"Oh, my ex." Diane explained, "We broke up a couple weeks ago."

"I see," John internally rolled his eyes. He could already see where this date was going. Diane was obviously not over her recent breakup, just as she obviously was the one who had been broken up with. Sherlock had been rubbing off on him in more than one way, it seemed. He wondered how much longer he had to stay. He listened to her prattle, all of which seemed to relate back to George. John feigned interest, counting down the minutes to when he would be able to make a polite exit. He would, after all, have to continue running into her at the Yard, even if he wasn't going to pursue her romantically.

John finally saw his escape when his phone buzzed with a text from Sherlock

_Bored!- SH_

"Oh!" he exclaimed, trying not to sound too thrilled at the chance to leave, "It looks like my flat mate needs me. He caught a case."

"Right," Diane sounded put-out, "the girls at the Yard told me about him."

John's expression darkened, "What about him?"

"Just that he would always come first for you."

"Yeah, well, I've got to get going," he stood up and left the bar, heading for the flat. John tried not to dwell on the fact that the officers thought she needed to be warned about his and Sherlock's friendship before their date. It was true, though, that Sherlock would always come first. He got into so much trouble without John there to back him up.

XxX

"Bad date?" Sherlock drawled from the sofa as John entered the flat.

"You're the detective. Deduce."

Sherlock sat up, scrutinizing John. "Well, you came fairly quickly after I texted you, so you were bored before then. You're not even tipsy, so you had two- no only one drink. You thought she would be interesting based on her job, but I could have saved you the trouble of going out. She's obviously still attracted to her ex. She's probably headed over there right now, in fact."

"Yes, you're very smart. Budge over, I want to watch the telly."

Sherlock bent his knees, leaving room for John.

"They're all boring, anyway. You know you'll have more fun here."

"I am aware of your argument. It's still nice to try, though."

Sherlock made a noise that communicated his disagreement. It was an argument they'd had since John had moved into the flat.

"I'm about ready to give up, anyway," John admitted, "It seems like I'm never going to find someone." After a moment of silence, he continued, "I think I might try one more time, and then call it quits. For a while, at least."

"That'd be nice. You'd be around more to help stifle the boredom."

"Is that all?" John asked. It almost hurt to know that Sherlock didn't seem to matter one way or another. He _thought_ that he may be attracted to the younger man, but John wasn't positive. He knew that he thought Sherlock to be incredibly beautiful, and he didn't think he'd mind sharing a bed with him, but a relationship? He wasn't so sure. John wasn't even positive that Sherlock had romantic feelings at all, let alone toward him. No, better to stay flatmates and friends, rather than confessing all this to Sherlock.

1.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" John looked up at the tall man and shook his head no. "I'm Neal, what's your name?"

"John." He stole a look at the stranger who was obviously checking him out. He felt slightly uncomfortable as Neal's eyes lingered on him, but he was surprised to realize that it wasn't as distressing as he thought it would be.

"So, do you come here often?" Neal asked, leaning in toward John.

"Yeah, it's the bar I visit most," he winced internally, wondering why he sounded so flustered. Perhaps it was because of the intense gaze and the curly hair that reminded him of Sherlock, but John found himself slightly on edge as he answered the cliché pick-up line.

Neal smiled, "Look, I'm going to cut to the chase. I think you're attractive, and I'd sure as hell like to take you home tonight."

John started at his honesty. "Um…look, I'm not gay."

Neal looked John over, bottom to top, an assessing look on his face. "That doesn't mean you're straight, though. I know that I'm being forward, but I'm sick of chasing after men who don't know what I'm looking for up front. I'm not looking for a committed relationship, but I wouldn't say no to someone who wants some sex on occasion."

John was starting to panic slightly. He had only just come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to another man, and here he was faced with someone who looked considerably like Sherlock. _Fuck it_, he thought, _why the hell not_.

"Why don't you buy me a drink, and we'll see?" John said coyly, doing his best to ignore the feeling that it was wrong simply because it wasn't Sherlock.

They talked and continued to drink, Neal buying John two shots in addition to his second beer. John finally slid off the bar stool, placing a steadying hand on Neal's shoulder as he wobbled slightly. Trailing his hand down Neal's arm, he promised he'd be back soon and headed toward the bathroom.

It only took Neal about a minute to follow John into the bathroom, pushing him up against the cold metal wall of the cubicle. They met in a fury in lips and teeth, John's hands coming up to rest against the sharp blades of Neal's shoulders while Neal's hands roved over John. His hand came up to press against John's crotch and John broke away suddenly. It just felt wrong, it wasn't the right person.

"I'm sorry, I just can't do this," he panted. Neal's lips traveled down John's neck, and he pushed him away. "Look, I have to go."

Neal watched John as he straightened his jacket, "You want this. Don't lie to yourself."

"Yes, I want this, but I'm in love with someone else. I'm sorry," John replied and left. He quickly settled his tab at the bar before Neal could follow him and left for the flat. He was eager to get away from there and the feelings that had surfaced. Somehow, he had fallen for Sherlock completely, and if it wasn't going to be him, it wasn't going to be anyone. Now, John just needed to convince Sherlock of that.

XxX

"Move," John ordered, sounding surlier than he usually did after work.

"You're home late," Sherlock observed, sounding so casual that John looked over suspiciously.

"What?"

"You went for one beer after work," Sherlock didn't ask, he told John, "but stayed long enough to drink three. No, the last one wasn't beer. It was something stronger, based on your movements. You met someone there, but you weren't planning on meeting someone."

"Could you just not do this for once?"

"I can't turn it on and off. Besides, I'm _bored_."

"Pick up a book, or something, then. You don't need to keep doing this."

Sherlock looked up at John, focusing on him, "Something bothered you about what happened at the bar."

"Please, just drop it."

Sherlock paused, "Oh. It was a man."

He sat back, fingers steepled under his chin as he thought. John turned on the television, silently fuming. He was slightly drunk, a little horny, and totally pissed off at Sherlock. He was only allowed a few minutes of quite before Sherlock spoke again.

"John, it would be easier for all if you stopped trying to date-"

"Yes, I know your argument, they're all _boring_and _unimaginative _and-"

"And went out with me instead," Sherlock finished.

John froze a small "oh" escaping his lips. He turned to face Sherlock, "What, exactly, are you asking me?"

"Would you like to go on a date with me? I seem to be far more interesting than your usual girlfriends, and I believe we are both attracted to each other. And it seems like you seem to have gotten over your 'I'm not gay' argument, based on what happened at the bar today."

"Right," John had definitely not been expecting this. Sherlock was attracted to him? "Yes. Let's go out on a date."

"Great," Sherlock jumped up, clearly ready to leave right then.

"No, not now," John said, making Sherlock pause, "Not tonight. I feel like shit and I have to work tomorrow. I just want to order in. Let's go out tomorrow night."

"Fine, fine," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, "I have some experiments to attend to."

He left John sitting on the couch, wondering if they had just both agreed to actually trying and going on a date. This was going to either be fantastic or a complete disaster, and John just hoped the whole experience wouldn't leave him looking for a new place to live.

+1.

John had never been so nervous about a date. He felt ridiculous, but he had never had so much riding on such a simple thing. He passed a hand over his face and left work. He was meeting Sherlock at Angelo's, it seemed appropriate to meet there rather than leave together for a first date.

Sherlock was sitting at their usual table, fiddling with his phone. John joined him, sinking gratefully into the chair. His day at work had been difficult; flu season had kept him busy.

"Rough day?" Sherlock inquired.

"You have no idea."

Angelo appeared, placing a candle on their table, "I know, I know. Not his date," he laughed at their private joke.

"Actually, tonight I am," John replied, smiling up at him.

Angelo raised his eyebrows, "I was wondering when you two would come to your senses." Winking at the pair, he disappeared to get their usual orders- spaghetti for Sherlock, pasta primavera for John.

The conversation was awkward at first, both men trying too hard to make this feel like a real first date. They gradually fell into the usual rhythm of their dinners, but with Sherlock making an effort to eat. Sherlock deduced the diners around them, pointing out the affair at the table next to them, the woman who had been stood up and the man who was going to propose soon to his girlfriend.

John was slightly startled to realize how completely normal this felt for him. He had been so apprehensive about changing the nature of their relationship, but he thought that their relationship had truly changed long ago, and that they were only realizing it now.

They finished their meal and left, Angelo calling "Have a great night," as they walked out.

The pair meandered down the street, walking slightly closer than they normally did. Sherlock's hand brushed John's, and he wove their fingers together. John saw Sherlock glancing at him, checking if this was acceptable, and he met his gaze with a smile and a squeeze of his hand. John was surprised at how comfortable this felt. He had never dated a man before, but being here with Sherlock just felt _right_.

They reached their flat, Sherlock unlocking the door and leading John in. He had refused to let go of John's hand since they had intertwined, towing him up the stairs to their flat. Entering the sitting room, they stood awkwardly, not sure how to proceed.

"Oh, fuck it," John said and grabbed the lapels of Sherlock's coat, hauling him in for a kiss. Sherlock made a startled noise, hands moving aimlessly through the air before coming up to grab fistfuls of John's jumper. His reaction had an immediate effect on John, who sighed into the kiss. It had been a long time since he had felt like this, and Sherlock's enthusiasm was intoxicating. John angled his mouth, bringing his hand up to tangle in Sherlock's curls. John swept his tongue along Sherlock's bottom lip, and he gasped, allowing John to explore his mouth.

"Couch," Sherlock said as they came up for air, walking backwards and pulling John with him. His legs hit the arm of the couch and he fell back, toppling John over with him.

"Oof!" John exclaimed before breaking out laughing, kissing Sherlock on the tip of his nose. "Why didn't we figure this out sooner?"

"Because you were too busy claiming you weren't gay."

John's lips drifted, kissing a path across Sherlock's cheekbone, down the line of his jaw, ending with a kiss pressed against the hollow of his throat. His licked his way down Sherlock's neck, connecting freckles with his tongue. He smiled as Sherlock squirmed, back arching at the contact. John realized he could spend a lifetime kissing Sherlock and it would never be enough. It was a drug, and he suddenly found himself an addict. Sherlock threw his head back, elongating his neck, leaving room for John to draw the skin into his mouth, soothing the mark with his tongue. John knew it would leave a mark, and it was a heady experience, a claim that this beautiful genius was his alone. Sherlock's hands pushed John's jumper up, coming to rest on his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles flex as John recaptured Sherlock's lips with his own. John thrust up, drawing his jean-clad erection against Sherlock's own.

"John," Sherlock gasped, "Wait."

John sat up, concern etched on his face. He hadn't wanted to push Sherlock, but he had been caught up in the wonderful feeling of Sherlock's body below his own.

"Mycroft," he began, a blush staining his cheeks, "Mycroft was right."

"I'm confused, why are we talking about your brother?"

"I've never done this before."

John smiled, "Neither have I. Not with a man. We don't have to…to have sex right now."

Sherlock's face fell. "You don't…"

"Now, none of that," John interrupted. "I want you. I want all of you. I just don't want to push you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Sherlock wriggled under John slightly, "I'm feeling uncomfortable right now, but it's only because you stopped."

John smiled down at him, "I just have one question. How long?"

"Since the day you shot that cabbie for me. And every day since."

"Your room, or mine?"

"Technically that is two questions," Sherlock smiled, "My bed is bigger."

XxX

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, face a mask of insecurity. It broke John's heart to see this gorgeous man so unsure. He had a passing thought of _I'm not gay_, but it was quickly replaced by love and a good bit of lust for the man in front of him. He cradled Sherlock's head in his hands, exploring his mouth slowly. The tangle of tongues sparked John's desire, but he knew they needed to proceed slowly. He could tell Sherlock was nervous, and he wanted to be able to do this again. Frequently.

John pushed Sherlock gently down to lay on the bed, straddling his thighs. His breath hitched at the picture before him- Sherlock's swollen lips, his mussed hair, and pupils blown wide by lust. Working his way back down Sherlock's glorious neck, John's fingers came up to slowly pop buttons on his shirt. Fingers, lips and tongue trailed down the newly exposed skin, making Sherlock let out breathy moans, which turned John on more than he thought possible.

John sat up, reaching for the hem of his jumper, but Sherlock caught his wrist.

"Let me," he said, sitting up, unintentionally grinding their constricted erections together. Both men froze, the sensation almost too much. Sherlock's fingers found the hem of John's jumper and ran along the sensitive skin of his lower back, his lips finding John's. His hands spread out against John's back, slowly drawing the wool over his head. They came back together in a clash of lips and teeth, John pushing Sherlock back down.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, pressing kisses along the planes of Sherlock's stomach. Dipping his head, John traced his tongue along the line of Sherlock's trousers, pausing to suck on his sharp hipbone. He slid the zipper down, divesting Sherlock of his last barrier. John stopped briefly, memorizing the picture before him. Sherlock was laid completely bare, shifting uncomfortably under John's gaze.

"Do you trust me?" John asked.

"Yes. Completely."

"Then don't worry, I can tell you're thinking too hard. Just let me do this for you." John looked up, refusing to do anything before Sherlock responded. A small nod was all he needed, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Sherlock's cock. Sherlock gasped, his breath coming quickly. John released his grip, pressing kisses along the crease of his thigh. John wanted to make this last as long as he could, but he knew it would be much shorter than he would like. He was already painfully hard, and he could tell Sherlock wasn't going to last much longer, either.

Leaning back down, he pressed a kiss to the side of Sherlock's cock. It twitched slightly, a bead of pre-come running down the length. John bit his lip, feeling completely out of his depth. He knew what he wanted to do, but the thought of taking Sherlock in his mouth was intimidating. John tentatively licked a line from base to tip, the combination of hard and soft strange under his tongue. The bitter taste was surprising. He wrapped his lips around Sherlock's cock and tried to focus less on the taste and more on the complete arousal he was feeling.

Wrapping his hand around the base of Sherlock, John bobbed his head experimentally. Sherlock moaned, and he looked up. The detective was watching him, hands fisted in the sheets as he breathed heavily.

"John, I think…" he tensed up, and John removed his mouth and replaced with his hand. Sherlock came suddenly, eyes wide, mouth in a perfect "O." John continued to pump, coaxing him through his orgasm. He sat back, thoroughly enjoying the view of a wrecked Sherlock.

"There you are," John said as Sherlock finally opened his eyes. "Was that alright?'

"More than," he admitted, "Now, come here."

John scooted up the bed, and Sherlock's long fingers came down to grip the base of his cock. The angle was all wrong, and Sherlock looked away in shame when John adjusted him.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed," John managed to say in between deep breaths. "Oh yes, that's perfect."

The feeling of Sherlock's long hand was a beautiful contrast to his own. It was the work of only a few minutes before John followed Sherlock, coming with a force that impressed both of them.

"That's disgusting," Sherlock said, wiping come off of his own cheek.

"Yeah, it is. Will you be joining me in the shower?"

XxX

Later, as they drifted off to sleep in a tangle limbs, a wave of affection washed over John. Sherlock's head rested on his chest, emitting a noise almost like a purr as he carded his fingers through the detective's curls.

"Why did you wait to ask me out?" he asked suddenly, sleepiness colouring his voice.

Sherlock sighed. "You never showed any interest before."

"Oh."

"Are you upset with the results?"

"No, not at all," John said, pressing a kiss against Sherlock's temple, "Not at all."


End file.
